James River in winter

Great blue herons lift off like lumbering pterodactyls and restless kingfishers fidget on their perch above the railroad canals. The smell of fresh, earthy fallen leaves mixes with the dank, organic smell of the river. And the big muddy monster rolls on cavorting over exposed bedrock and spilling over the banks creating temporary islands.

It's an unseasonably warm December day along the James River. Out again with Kerry we're making the most of the fine whether to be active. Again, she is helping me see my city with new eyes. This stretch of the river in the heart of the city feels wild and feral. Railroad lines and rusty battlements erode away forgotten beside towering sycamores and tulip poplars lining the banks. Groups of mallard ducks and Canada geese bob in the side streams, ducking down occasionally to forage along the bottom leaving only there butts to wiggle in the air.

This park is called Texas Beach and is apparently a great getaway spot in the summer months. Today, midweek in December, we share it only with the birds. Wandering the shore the river seems to babble a story in a long stream of conscious and the old stone walls lean closer trying to listen. And I'm here smiling, left trying to decipher the conversation...